Permitted Pain
by Porticulis
Summary: When you can't afford to be hurt, you can't afford to be loved. Crack Pairing Drabble KibaXGaara.


A/N: Needed a diversion from this fic I'm writing for an old friend so I decided to try my hand at a drabble that might offer a simple change of perspective, hence this crack pairing. If you want to pick a fight over my open- minded pairings or condemn my lack of sexual- orientation bias I have to ask you to spend that energy more fruitfully instead by writing and publishing a piece more acceptable to your beliefs. That way, we all win.

Warnings: Lime- ish, Yaoi, Crack Pairing, Slightly Unusual XD;;

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**Permitted Pain**

The texture of Gaara's deep red hair wasn't as gritty as Kiba had, in the beginning, imagined it would be. Sure it smelled as hot and dry as the desert wind but it was as soft as a well combed coat of fur, probably as comfortable as Akamaru's and pride wouldn't allow him to award any higher praise. Fingers idly combing the slightly explosive head of vivid hair, Kiba drew close enough for Gaara to lower his lids as the slim bridge of the dog- boy's nose blurred in his vision. Dull pink lips barely parting, Kiba kissed the fiery tattoo above the tensing youth's left brow and allowed his nether lip to drag against the agony of each stroke. Yes, he was privy to the story of that tattoo and was drawn to it all the more.

In return Gaara wrapped his fingers about Kiba's copper- tinted shoulder, its fluid luster having once fascinated him. For someone who transformed into an animal every other day the dog- boy had a surprising obsession with smoothness. No hirsute, fang- accessorized body bared itself once that compensating fur- trimmed jacket was pulled off, just a toned sculpture in warm malleable bronze.

Kiba encouraged the touch with a low rumble that reverberated in his throat so that Gaara could also feel the quivering flesh, prompting the sand shinobi to slide his fingertips more boldly up to the curve of his partner's chin, tugging it lower. Kiba obeyed, dark eyes darting over each feature of Gaara's face while the master of sand returned the gaze steadily, green eyes gentle with the light of young shoots in an oasis. Accepting that as permission, Kiba lowered his lips again but hesitated at the last moment just in case, too close to see but close enough to hear the shortness of their breaths.

"Are you sure . . . this is alright?" Kiba murmured, twitching a little as he tried unsuccessfully to avoid breathing against the shinobi.

"Aa," Gaara affirmed in a low but clear voice, his fingertips now resting against the base of Kiba's nape. When the contact was pressed upon him, his reaction was instinctive, moving enough for merely the tips of their tongues to touch in the shared heat and unsatisfying awkwardness.

Parting, Kiba was swift to respond to the restless desire, readily discarding his earlier reservations as he attempted to the same with Gaara's casually donned black t- shirt, winding his fingers into the hem of the fabric and wrenching them up, his nails scraping impatiently across the sand shinobi's back. A quiet utterance from Gaara melted into his breath unintelligibly.

"Mn . . . but _my_ shirt's already off," Kiba protested absently not caring if that had been Gaara's complaint at all.

The fine blade of his nose teased the tautness of Gaara's neck as Kiba savoured the fair youth's scent radiating powerfully along the fevered flesh. Kiba sneaked a signature incisor- crowned grin beneath Gaara's lust- misted vision. He clearly enjoyed Gaara's rapid arousal. Wickedly, he clamped a little of the sensitive spot between his lips, gently nibbling. The sweet, sharp gasp fed Kiba's own rush, his skin prickling as he played the delicious sound again in his mind.

"Kiba . . . I have to concentrate . . ." Gaara rasped a warning that went unheeded to the preoccupied leaf shinobi who had acquired a taste for nibbling. "Ki . . . ba . . ." Gara growled half exasperated and half strained as he struggled to hold back that insidious extension of himself.

"Gaara you-" but what it was Kiba had to say of his latest obsession was lost in the sudden hiss that had grown too insistent to ignore. Eyes widening, Kiba shot a sober glance down at the abrasive slither of snaking sand that twined its thick body around his arms, gradually crushing them as it coiled.

"That's enough!" Gaara barked and for a confused moment Kiba recoiled but as the serpentine binds crumbled into dust and piling sand he understood that the jinchuuriki had been addressing his subconscious mind.

As Gaara panted, shoulders slumped and eyes firmly shut, Kiba watched the reddened bruise hollowly.

"Kiba? Kiba!"

The leaf shinobi blinked, finally noticing the concerned green eyes watching him.

"Ah? Mm. I'm alright," Kiba reassured forcing a laugh that he ended abruptly as it unexpectedly grew bitter.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed Kiba combed his fingers through his hair distractedly. Gaara's head was bowed, blood red hair framing his forehead, his expression hidden in shadow, form defeated in a moat of sand.

"Kiba, I-" he began but Kiba cut him off.

"No . . . I'm always so impatient, I'm the one who should be sorry. Yeah it's just too soon again, just too early for you," Kiba reiterated more or less to himself. He didn't add that it had also been too early for those several unfulfilled occasions in the past few weeks and there were only so many excuses he could make to travel to the dessert village even in the name of an alliance. It was just that . . . well, was he still viewed as a threat, as something dangerous? Was it that frightening to be intimate with him?

"I lose control," Gaara persisted in a low, guilt- stricken voice, "I try to hold the sand back but I- when you- I lose control."

Kiba smiled weakly. An interesting conundrum, having his feelings wounded and yet at the same time, have his ego boosted. Kiba was torn between annoyance and tenderness but shrugging helplessly he decided he could always be vexed on his trip back and it'd be much more profitable to cuddle up against his Gaara then to get into a fight with the sand shinobi when he was already so remorseful. Climbing up to the downcast Gaara, he gently knocked the pale forehead with his own tanned one.

"It's instinct, just instinct. You can't help it, just like my licking," he teased provoking a snort of mirth from his companion.

Lifting his cheek to brush against Kiba's, Gaara cradled the dog- boy's ears with his fingers, caressing them until Kiba sighed and leaned into the crook of Gaara's shoulder. Lids lowered in dazed pleasure, Kiba let the sand shinobi soothe the unsettling doubts with the comforting pressure of those fingertips.

"Let's just stay like this tonight," he murmured vaguely, his mind drifting with the pleasant sensations.

"En," Gaara replied hushed and contented as he lowered his face against the accommodating wealth of that wild auburn mane.

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End file.
